I had another vivid dream last night. It was about my Grandma and this dream felt very real. She was alive and she'd done some baking. Company was over. I was so surprised to see her, I kept staring at her and she looked right into my eyes and smiled. I thought if I touched her she'd disintegrate into black ash, but I threw my arms around her and hugged her so tight. The way she felt in my arms, the way she smelled, it was real, I didn't want to let go. We were both so happy!
I woke up in her Laz-e-boy I inherited in my living room at 5 in the morning. It was disorienting, but then I remembered how laying in the bed made me feel sick. I didn't feel sick any more so I crawled into bed and cried a bit thinking about Grandma.
Before bed, Bob and I were watching a crime series on Netflix. A lovely old woman was talking about what it felt like to have her child murdered. She said you never get over it and life never gets easier, you just learn to live without. It's like losing a leg; you learn to get on with your life and you become proficient without it. But even if you received a prosthetic leg, you would always want your real leg.
That's exactly how I feel about Grandma. I will always wish she were still alive, even when I have great-grandchildren of my own.